Flog a Pro: would you pay to turn the first page of this bestseller?

Trained by reading hundreds of submissions, editors and agents often make their read/not-read decision on the first page. In a customarily formatted book manuscript with chapters starting about 1/3 of the way down the page (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type), there are 16 or 17 lines on the first page online or at the bookstore.

Here’s the question:

Would you pay good money to read the rest of the chapter? With 50 chapters in a book that costs $15, each chapter would be “worth” 30 cents.

So, before you read the excerpt, take 30 cents from your pocket or purse. When you’re done, decide what to do with those three dimes or the quarter and a nickel. It’s not much, but think of paying 30 cents for the rest of the chapter every time you sample a book’s first page. In a sense, time is money for a literary agent working her way through a raft of submissions, and she is spending that resource whenever she turns a page.

Please judge by storytelling quality, not by genre or content—some reject an opening page immediately because of genre, but that’s not a good enough reason when the point is to analyze for storytelling strength.

This novel was number nine on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for September 17, 2017. How strong is the opening page—would this narrative, all on its own, have hooked an agent if it came in from an unpublished writer? Following are what would be the first 17 manuscript lines of the first chapter.

“State your name, please.”

“Armand Gamache.”

“And you are the head of the Sûreté du Québec?”

“The Chief Superintendent, oui.”

Gamache sat upright on the wooden chair. It was hot. Sweltering, really, on this July morning. He could taste perspiration from his upper lip and it was only just ten o’clock. It was only just starting.

The witness box was not his favorite place in the world. And far from his favorite thing to do. To testify against another human being. There were only a few times in his career when he’d gotten satisfaction, even pleasure, from that and this wasn’t one of them.

Sitting uncomfortably on the hard chair, under oath, Armand Gamache admitted to himself that while he believed in the law, had spent his career working within the justice system, what he really had to answer to was his conscience.

And that was proving to be a pretty harsh judge.

“I believe you were also the arresting officer.”

“I was.”

“Is that unusual, for the Chief Superintendent to actually be making arrests?”

This is Glass Houses by Louise Penny. Was this opening page compelling?

My vote: no.

This novel received a strong review average of 4.7 stars out of 5 on Amazon for this story of a series character. The writing seems fine at the time (more on that in a moment), and there is tension on the page—but it’s internal tension in the character. Was that tension—caused by musing rather than something happening—enough to create page-turning tension in a reader, most particularly an agent?

There is the curiosity element of the scene being that of a trial, something we like to see in mysteries. Other than the musing, though, this is pretty much setup—the character’s name, position, and role in the scenario as the arresting officer. Hardly compelling action or information.

So we are left with the character’s discomfort in both the environment—heated, a hard chair—and in his internal musing. For this reader, not enough.

Something that troubled me: I did read on, of course, as part of my process for flogging, to see if there’s a better, more gripping opening. I didn’t see much of anything until the next chapter. However, just three paragraphs after the first page came a head-hop, right from the deep third POV of the Chief Superintendent and into the head of the judge, where we are treated to her internal observations of what is going on, of something surprising her. Here’s the passage, where we move from what Armand is thinking directly to this as the judge observes Armand:

And what Judge Corriveau saw was a not particularly pleasant smile. More a sneer, really. Which surprised her, given the Chief Crown and the Chief Superintendent were apparently on the same side. Though that didn’t mean, she knew, that they had to like or respect each.

Head-hopping bothers me. I understand that an omniscient POV moves from one POV to another, but, done well, doesn’t yank a reader from one mind to another. It happens again in this chapter, but not in a more arms-length, omniscient way, but vaulting from close third POV to close third POV. Not a good sign. Oh, and there were little writing hiccups that I see as less than professional, such as this: “He shifted his eyes back to . . .” No, he shifted his gaze, his eyes hadn’t gone anywhere. Seeing things such as that, I ended up feeling that not turning the page was a good decision for me.

Your thoughts?

Flogging the Indie side: you’re invited to walk a little on the Indie side most every Monday and on other days when there’s no submission to critique, when I flog an author who has offered their novel free on BookBub. Just visit Flogging the Quill. You get to vote on turning the page and whether or not the author should have hired an editor. I occasionally find a gem that’s free, so it might be worth your time. Hope to see you there.

Wish you could buy this author a cup of joe?

Ray Rhamey is the author of four novels and one writing craft book, Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling. He's also an editor of book-length fiction and designs book covers and interiors for Indie authors and small presses. His website, crrreative.com, offers an a la carte menu of creative services for writers and publishers. Learn more about Ray's books at rayrhamey.com.

Yeah, I agree with you Ray. This opening has some of the right elements, but misses the mark. Now, what do you think about putting this paragraph first?

“The witness box was not his favorite place in the world. And far from his favorite thing to do. To testify against another human being. There were only a few times in his career when he’d gotten satisfaction, even pleasure, from that and this wasn’t one of them.”

Penny always head hops, often to a dog or a duck. And she does it well. Just another example of an author “breaking” rules with success. Readers are seldom bothered by POV, active-passive, show vs. tell, etc.

I read this book last week and only because I liked the first three books in the series. If it wasn’t attached to a well-known author and it didn’t have such strong reviews, I don’t think I could have continued past the first few pages.

I agree with you, the head-hopping was very painful. It kept pulling me out of the story. From one paragraph to the next, it not only head hops but it switches back and forth constantly from the current day trial to the flashback scenes of the crime. There are multiple characters with their own POV and the flashbacks are not denoted with italics or anything else, so the novel is not a fluid read. I spent a ridiculous amount of time, rereading sentences to clarify which character’s head I was in and if it was present day or if the story was filling in more backstory.

That said, I liked the subplot if it can be called that, the “old world” story woven throughout the novel. But the main “who dunnit” plot was anti-climatic for me and rather unbelievable.

As a reader who writes, I divide my attention between what’s being said and how it’s said. The story begins in an interesting way, with dialogue. But then a couple hundred words of exposition intervene before the dialogue is resumed. For me, this is just clumsy writing. If you know what you’re doing, you manage to convey most of the exposition in the dialogue. A writer (and his editor) who does something like this on the first page has lost me entirely.

I read all of Penny’s first five or so novels, enjoying the Three Pines setting and the characters. But as her plots got more and more far-fetched and her writing kept repeating the same tics, I lost interest.

One thing that always bothers me about her novels, in addition to the head hopping, is their choppiness. She breaks up thoughts and action when there’s no reason to.

I voted to keep going on this one, but I probably wouldn’t after another chapter or so.

I voted no. The only question I had after reading was: Why is he in law enforcement if he finds the process conflicts his conscious to such an unhappy degree? I was not motivated to care about finding out.

I voted no. I felt disoriented instead of curious, like I’d missed the first half of the movie. The only thing I was wondering was why it was so hot. No air conditioning?

But, when it was revealed that this is the fourth or fifth book in a series, this beginning made more sense: I was missing the first part of the story. For readers of the series, this beginning is probably fine–they already know something about Armand, his character, his story, and when this story is taking place (so they’re not distracted by the lack of air conditioning). Having him seated uncomfortably in a witness box not only makes sense to them, but probably raises a story question or two. given what they already know.

I also voted Yes, for much the same reason. When I see this kind of setup, it actually gives me pleasure. I didn’t know this character, so it was worth turning the page to see why the chief honcho was doing the arresting, and a cop who gets no pleasure out of testifying against criminals is (I hope) going to be an interesting guy.

I voted YES. Even if I didn’t recognize Gamache, I felt there was enough tension there on the first page, along with the major question about his guilt and minor ones like why he had been hands-on in an arrest.

It’s interesting that the no head-hopping “rule” persists even as tolerance for first person, now even second person POV, and also present tense writing have grown.

If handled well, POV shifts are not jarring in the least to me. It entirely depends on how smooth the execution is. I think Penny is pretty good at this. In some genres of novels, I enjoy being able to get into the heads of more characters.

Nora Roberts is of course the queen of head-hopping and is a master at it, IMO.

I don’t think this should be a writing no-no. I think writers should be aware *some* readers don’t like it. (Obviously some do or writers like NR wouldn’t sell a gazillion books a year.) Just like some readers don’t like first person–or too many cuss words. : )

It’s about reading preference, more than a writing dictum, IMO. And like with anything else in our work, the choice to make frequent POV changes should be determined by the needs our our story and our abilities as a writer to do it effectively.

“Even if I didn’t recognize Gamache” points out a potential flaw in this edition of “Flog a Pro”: it’s not blind. People familiar with the author recognized it as the author’s work. They weren’t judging the writing on it’s own merit.

Perhaps in the future, changing proper names of the excerpt might help prevent this?

My vote was also yes, and by my calculations this is Penny’s 13th book in the Gamache series. They are worth a read if you like series and probably not if you don’t. I like surprises when I read and the author never disappoints. The whole series surprised me because I have not wanted to read a series since the Harry Potter books (totally different). Yes, some of the Gamache books can be slow going at first. But he and his friends and colleagues grow on you. The head-hopping has not presented me with a problem.

Like several others here, I couldn’t give this an objective read because I’ve read about half of Penny’s series–chances are I will get to this book eventually. I suppose I would be a tougher judge if I didn’t know Gamache and Penny. As it is, I have enough of a sense of what may follow (including the head-hopping) that I would turn the page.

Being familiar with the characters and Three Pines (which is really another character), I know I’m in for omniscient POV and moving back and forth in time. I also know that any given Penny mystery is basically an opportunity to go back and visit the main/series characters, as well as the town, and see them develop further. So I voted yes.

I suspect I’m going to get a reputation for being a softie, but I’m a yes, too. I enjoy crime fiction and there are enough story questions raised here that I would turn the page. That it’s set in Quebecois society is an additional exotic element that intrigues me.